


i'm not that basic, i swear

by likewinning



Category: Batman (Comics), DCU (Comics), Midnighter (Comics)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Retail, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-04-07
Updated: 2016-04-07
Packaged: 2018-05-31 18:50:10
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,212
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6482944
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/likewinning/pseuds/likewinning
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"Anyone ever tell you you're a jackass?"</p>
            </blockquote>





	i'm not that basic, i swear

Dick storms into the store ten minutes late for his shift, holding two iced lattes dripping with condensation. His shirt has whipped cream on it and his face is bright red. "I," Dick says to Jason and the rest of the store's population, "fucking hate that guy."

"What guy?" Jason asks. He throws a button at Dick's forehead. "Come on, you're late. I wanna go home. Bruce DVR'd _Cupcake Wars_ for me."

"You guys are disgusting," Dick says, and he grins for a second, but it turns into a scowl as he sets the drinks down on the counter, getting water everywhere. "You know. That _guy_ at Starbucks. With the tattoos and the piercings and the fucking _attitude_. M. Which isn't even a _name_ , it's a letter of the alphabet."

"Uh-huh," Jason says. He rolls his eyes. "Look, _Sesame Street_ , are you gonna let me count out any time soon, or -"

" _Ten minutes_ waiting for him to make my drink, Jay. I asked for a cookie dough Frappucinno with extra whip and he gave me _these_." He holds up his drinks, two bright pink concoctions.

Jason snorts. "Dickie," he says.

"What?" Dick asks.

Jason opens his mouth, but then seems to decide better of it. "Nevermind," he says. "Just go count in."

 

*

 

It's not like Dick _did_ anything to M. He's always polite; he's sure of it. Okay, so maybe he holds up the line sometimes talking to Donna or Wally, but they're his _friends_. M doesn't have to get so mean about it, shoving his drink at him before he even _orders_ it.

The next time Dick goes, M is working the register. He doesn't say hi to Dick, just nods at him and waits.

"Um," Dick says. "Hi. Oh hey, I like the new gauges. Those look really good."

"Thanks," M says. "What do you want?"

"Jeez," Dick says. "Your customer service skills are kind of out of this world, huh?"

M glares at him. "I'm getting paid shit to schlep drinks for pretty boys who _definitely_ don't need more caffeine. You telling me you're a peach to everyone who comes into _your_ store?"

Dick grins at him, bats his lashes. "Actually, I am. Jason always gets mad at me cuz I hold up the line talking too much."

"I know the feeling," M says. "You gonna order?"

"No," Dick says. "I was _trying_ to figure out what I did to you. You know, to make you so - grouchy."

M looks angry for a second, but then he - deflates. "I'm grouchy to everyone, man. Maybe balls of sunshine like you just bring it out of me more."

"You sound like Jay," Dick says. "You better watch out, or I'll start singing at you soon, and then you'll _really_ hate me."

"Somehow I doubt that's possible," M says.

"You'll see," Dick says. "You should come by the store later. We're having a discount on those," he says, motioning to M's gauges. "We have these pink sparkly ones that are _so_ you."

"Tell you what," M says. "You get the fuck outta here and let the ten people behind you order their coffees, and I'll stop by."

"Deal," Dick says. He gets out of everyone's way, ignoring the glares of all the people waiting behind him.

 

*

 

M stops by the store a few hours later, still wearing his apron and smelling like coffee. Dick's working the register and Tim's sort of helping, as much as Tim ever helps, but as soon as M comes into the store Tim makes this _noise_. It's a sex noise. Dick's definitely heard it coming from Tim's bedroom.

"What?" Dick asks.

"What?" Tim asks. "Are you _serious?_ Look at him."

Dick looks over at M where he's browsing. Sure, he's hot. Tattoos all up and down his arms, great body, piercings. He's never really _looked_ looked, not like Tim is apparently doing.

"I'm," Tim says. "I tried to hit that once. He turned me down."

Dick turns around and stares at him. Tim's wearing bright red lipstick and a party dress with combat boots today, and a pair of unicorn earrings. "I didn't know that was possible."

Tim nods solemnly. "It was bound to happen once, right? I can't believe he's _in_ here."

"I told him to come," Dick says. He leaves Tim at the register and catches up with M. "Finding anything good?" Dick asks, and M looks up at him.

"Something like," he says. He licks his lips.

"I set these aside for you," Dick says, holding up some pink sparkly gauges. "I think they're just your size."

M snorts. "Anyone ever tell you you're a jackass?"

"Sure," Dick says. "But no one ever _means_ it."

"Uh-huh," M says.

"Oh hey," Dick says. He touches M's arm, one of the quotes scrawled across it. "I know that quote. I remember it from my English class."

"Yeah," M says, looking down at where Dick's finger is resting on him. "It's one of my favorites. I went to college for an English degree."

"And now you work at Starbucks," Dick says.

"Yep," M says.

"Hey, man, it's okay," Dick says. "We're all fuck-ups here. You ever wanna feel great about yourself, you should come hang out with me and my friends."

M smirks at him. "Is that an invitation?"

"Maybe," Dick says. "I mean, we get pretty wild."

M leans in close, and he smells like coffee and caramel and Dick has a brief, wild thought about licking him. "Pretty boy," he says, "I'd drink you right under the table."

"I like it under the table," Dick says. "One time, I found five dollars under there."

M laughs, and it's a rough, raspy sound that Dick kind of likes. "You're an idiot," he says.

"Whatever," Dick says. "You know Diablo's, over on 43rd? We're all meeting there tonight, if you want to come."

"Sure," M says. Dick checks him out at the register - Tim's disappeared to god knows where -, and they exchange phone numbers. A few minutes later, Tim reappears.

"You know," Tim starts.

"Know what?" Dick asks.

Tim opens his mouth, then shakes his head and brushes what looks like weed off his dress. "Nevermind. I'm gonna go take my break, 'kay?"

Dick doesn't bother to ask him what he was doing before.

 

*

 

When M finds them at the club, Dick's already had a couple of drinks - Jason's designated driver tonight, and Tim always insists on pre-gaming. M looks - Dick's never seen him in _normal_ clothes. He's wearing jeans and a plain white v-neck, and it makes all the ink on his arms stand out a bit more. He must have shaved before he got here, and Dick has a crazy impulse to tell him he kind of liked the stubble.

"M," Dick says, standing almost on his tiptoes to sling his arm around him. "This is everybody. That's Jason, and Steph, and Roy, and - you know Tim," he says, and Tim actually _blushes_.

"Uh-huh," M says. "I know Roy, too," he says, and everyone _looks_ at Roy, but he doesn't really say anything, just shrugs and says, "Hey, man. Good to see you."

Roy and Tim separate off from the rest of them pretty soon to go fuck on the dancefloor or whatever, and Jason and Steph find a booth and start texting their respective partners because they're _boring_. Dick drags M to the bar and starts ordering shots.

"You need to catch up," he says. "I've had -" he tries to count, "Well, a lot."

M laughs, and when the shots come he puts them back one after another, the last one dripping down his fingers. Dick watches as M brings his finger to his mouth and sucks it clean.

"Um," Dick says. "So. Did you want to - you know, go dance?" He's already been tapping his feet, drumming his fingers on the bar - Dick feels a rhythm and he _needs_ to move.

"Sure," M says. "If you need someone to keep you on your feet."

Dick grins. "You mean you don't want to sweep me _off_ them?"

M laughs and follows him to the dance floor. At first they're not really dancing together. Dick has his eyes shut and he's just _feeling_ the rhythm, the beat of his heart compared to the thumping beat of the music, but then he feels someone else's breath on his neck, someone else's hands over his stomach, and M says, "Anyone ever tell you your ass is absolutely ridiculous?"

"Hm," Dick giggles. He wriggles back against M. They move well together, and M is warm and solid against him. "Maybe once or twice?"

"Jesus," M says. "Even when I wanted to toss a drink at you, I'd look at you and -"

"You know," Jason says, moving in front of them. He looks kind of pissed. Probably he needs a drink. Maybe they can call Bruce's butler guy and have him drive _all_ of them home. "If I'd known this was date night, I would've brought Bruce."

Dick blinks at him. "It's not a date," he says. He feels M tense behind him, and there's a cold feeling where M took his hands off his hips.

"Really," Jason says. He looks behind Dick at M, and Dick's too drunk to figure out any of what's going on, except that M was touching him and they were happy and dancing and now they're not.

"He's," Dick starts, but when he turns around M's gone, making his way through the crowd.

"Dickie," Dick hears Jason say as he starts after him, "you're an idiot."

He catches up with M outside, where he's lighting up a cigarette. "Hey," Dick says.

M nods at him, and it's back to _that_.

"Um," Dick says. He rubs the back of his neck. "Did you - was this supposed to be, like, a date?"

M stares at him for a while. Dick can still smell his cologne on him, and M's t-shirt sticks to his chest. Then M says, "No," he says. "I know a confused straight boy when I see one, man. Believe me, I stopped messing with that a long time ago."

Dick - there's something with the tone of M's voice that doesn't seem right, but his head is swimming and all those drinks made him _sleepy_. He wonders if he could just go crash in Jason's car for a while.

"Good," Dick says. He leans back against the wall next to M and yawns. "Getting to old for this much fun," he says. "I'm beat already."

"Amateur," M says.

"Whatever," Dick says. "I bet you're gonna finish your cigarette, go home, put on your robe and slippers and go to bed."

M raises an eyebrow. "Who the hell sleeps in their slippers?"

Dick waves him off. "You know what I mean."

"Uh-huh." M grins at him, and then it turns kind of sad again, so Dick says the first thing that pops into his head.

"Hey, do you mind driving me home? I live close."

"I - sure," M says. He finishes his cigarette and Dick texts Jason some garbled message to let him know he's leaving, and then they find M's car. M's playing the Pixies on his stereo and Dick sings along even though he doesn't know most of the words. The car's a beat up old Chevy and the leather seats are torn but Dick feels - _comfortable_.

They pull up to Dick's place about fifteen minutes later. "Well," Dick says. He looks over at M. In the moonlight he looks pale, but his eyes light up and Dick thinks back to when they were on the dancefloor, when he could feel M's breath on his skin.

"Well," M says back. Dick unbuckles his seatbelt, but he doesn't get out of the car. He leans forward, and he just wants - he's just thinking about breathing M _in_ again, cologne and coffee and sweat, but then he's tilting his head and kissing him, half crawling into his lap to do it.

He tastes like the shots they drank tonight, like the cigarette they had earlier. His tongue pushes against Dick's and Dick moans for it, drags his fingers through M's hair -

M pushes him back, turns away from him. "No," he says.

"M," Dick starts, but M shakes his head, rolls down the window and digs around for another cigarette. "Go home, man. Sleep it off. We don't need to talk about this."

"But -" Dick tries, but M shakes his head again, and his voice is harder when he says, "Good night, Grayson."

Dick stumbles up the stairs, gets to his apartment only to realize he doesn't have his keys. He sits down with his back to the doorway, shuts his eyes and tries to figure out how this night got so messed up.

 

*

 

The next morning, Dick can barely open his eyes, and when he reaches under the sheets for his phone it's at 2%, but he keeps it alive just long enough to shoot off a text to M: _sorry i suck so much._

It's another twenty minutes before M texts him back. _Trust me_ , he says, _THAT wasn't the problem._

Dick snorts into his pillow, lets his phone fall off the bed and rolls over. He thinks, maybe, they'll be okay.


End file.
